


Can’t Lose You Babe

by reserve



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Complicated Sexual Dynamics, Dylan Strome is a Switch, M/M, Mild Gay Panic, Post-Game Broning, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-08 14:45:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18625390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reserve/pseuds/reserve
Summary: “Fuck you,” Dylan said. He went back in for another kiss. “I’m gonna put you on my dick. We’ll see who’s desperate.”





	Can’t Lose You Babe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [madalaena](https://archiveofourown.org/users/madalaena/gifts).



> This is the direct result of not wanting to study for my law school finals. Oops. Thanks to Mad for helping me out and holding my hand.
> 
> Set after the Blackhawks/Senators game. The final score was 8-7 Hawks, and Alex DeBrincat recorded his fourth career hat trick.
> 
> For out of town visitors, [here’s dem bois](https://galchenyum.tumblr.com/post/183824925329/buds). Alex is the little one.

Dylan was wired. Vibrating.  
  
A wild win would do that; a hat trick for the bae could only add to it. That’s how they’d ended up here: Dylan inching his hand up Alex’s thigh in the car on the way home, chanting MVP under his breath while Alex tried to slap him away over and over.  
  
After the fourth attempt to get Alex’s zipper down, he gave up. Reached for Alex’s iPhone instead. He could, at the very least, provide the tunes if not the celebratory groping in the middle of the fucking city.  
  
“God, your taste sucks,” he said, scrolling through Alex’s Spotify playlists. “How can one dude have so much pop punk on his phone?” There was an entire selection of just Fall Out Boy. How very _Chicago._

Alex scoffed but didn’t spare him a glance. Eyes on the road, eyes on the prize. That was his best friend. Hands-off his dick, too, apparently. And Dylan still wasn’t used to being brushed off, told to wait. But—he was doing his best.

“Expand your palate,” he went on, before picking the Top Tracks list and—Ariana Grande. _Nice_. He cranked the volume.

“Sorry I’m not a fucking encyclopedia of _only_ Drake lyrics.” Alex turned the volume down.  
  
“He’s a national treasure!”  
  
“Yeah, okay,” Alex said, finally giving him just a hint of a smile, a barely there flirty look. “Maybe in Canada.”  
  
Dylan hit next out of spite and waited to see what that brought up. Started bouncing to the beat before the words even kicked in. “That sexy shit,” he crowed, attempting to launch into the lyrics of “Lost in the Fire” in a proximity of the Weekend’s falsetto. “I wanna fuck you slow...lights on… take it out.”  
  
“Oh my god, give up,” Alex said through a laugh.  
  
“I can’t lose you, babe” Dylan sang. Really meaning it all of a sudden. “Fuck you straiiiiight.”  
  
“You’re ridiculous. Change this.” Alex tried to grab his phone away, one grabby hand reaching over into the passenger seat blindly.  
  
“Fuck you straight,” Dylan mused, as the song ended anyway. “Ironic.”  
  
“I’ll fuck you fucking gay,” Alex said.  
  
“Sure, babe,” Dylan trailed off, momentarily haunted by the Weekend singing _you can bring a friend, she can ride on top your face_.

That would be the icing on the cake, someone else—fine, Marner, because he already knew what Marner fucked like—on the menu, too. Alex on his dick after watching him score goals on goals, a dangerous little wraith out there on the ice. Just like Dylan remembered. Making him look good. Outshining him in the best possible way. “You killed it tonight,” he said. He pressed down on his crotch to just to check the situation. “Patty Kane is shook.”  
  
Alex hummed.  
  
“Why’s it take so long to get anywhere in this city?”  
  
“Call yourself an Uber next time,” Alex said. He cleared his throat.

Dylan wanted to make a joke about the City of Brotherly Love, like—some best bud you are, bud—but he couldn’t remember if that was Chicago. Or maybe it was Philadelphia. He knew one was windy. They didn’t teach that stuff in Canada. But he also thought that maybe he should know, because he’d actually lived in Pennsylvania. He was still so keyed up.

Then Alex reached over to squeeze his knee. Touching him at long last, like he knew Dylan needed it. Pulling into the parking garage with a bit of _vroom._

“Fucking finally.” Dylan was already undoing his seatbelt. And then they were in the elevator, and he had Alex crowded up against the mirrored wall, thumbs hooked into the belt loops on his game day slacks. His dick was snugged up against Alex’s tummy. “Love these on you,” he said, feeling stupid and happy to have his hands occupied. “Fit you so good. Your daddy got you dressed up so nice.”  
  
“Don’t call Bur my daddy.”  
  
Dylan snickered, nosed along Alex’s hairline, breathing him in. “If you say so.”  
  
“Ugh.”

The elevator doors opened just as Alex shoved him away and took off down the hallway. Dylan thanked god for the dog walker, because he had no intention of taking Ralph for a walk when he could be stripping Alex out of his freshly tailored pants.  
  
“Here, kitty kitty,” he said, just to be annoying, taking the bait and following after. Couldn’t even pretend he wanted to take his time, make Alex wait for once. Somehow, though, dignity managed to kick in and he forced himself into an easy, slow stride. He wasn’t the obvious fuck he’d been when they were kids. And he wasn’t salivating after Marner around every corner, either.  
  
God, but the UC had been full tonight. So damn _loud._ And a win always made him hot for it.

Alex had called it pond hockey in his post-game. Twitter was less kind, hash-tagging it “DefenseOptionalNight.” Dylan didn’t give a fuck. A dub was a dub and after losing to Columbus the game before they needed it. They needed every point they could get.

They were still improbably in the hunt, and Dylan was too. He nearly tripped over Ralph getting through the door, inelegant in his contained haste, and tracking Alex into the kitchen.  
  
“You’re so lame,” Alex said, before letting Dylan kiss him and haul him up into his arms like they were in _The Notebook_ or something. He let Dylan press him against the refrigerator doors, too. Another hard, cold surface. Alex had taken off his suit jacket and dumped it over one of the kitchen island chairs. Dylan could feel him shiver against his chest as he came into contact with the chilly metal.

 _Fuck,_ he liked that.

Alex tasted good. Somehow his mouth was both cool and hot at once. He kissed like he had all the time in the world and all Dylan wanted was a little urgency.  
  
“C’mon,” he muttered when his tongue was unoccupied. He had a handful of Alex’s ass in one hand and Alex’s legs around his waist, could feel that Alex was hard through his dress shirt. He wasn’t sure what he was asking for.  
  
“Desperate,” Alex said. Then sing-song while Dylan attacked his neck, sucking below his ear. Chewing on him a little. “ _Soooo_ desperate.”  
  
“Tell me you don’t like it.”  
  
“Hate it.”  
  
“Fuck you,” Dylan said. He went back in for another kiss. “I’m gonna put you on my dick. We’ll see who’s desperate.”  
  
Alex clung to his shoulders and Dylan got both arms wrapped under his ass, resituating them enough to make it to the bedroom with Alex still in his arms like an overgrown marsupial. Ralph followed after them. Dylan didn’t care. He had yet to graduate to “comfortable with the dog watching us fuck,” but he wasn’t about to break momentum when Alex had moved onto gripping his hair in a tight fist. Really clutching. It made Dylan harder.  
  
He bit at Alex’s mouth, smeared his lips along his stubbled cheek. Wanted to feel it against his smoother skin. It was probably—it was probably a little fucked up how much he loved every single mark either of them ended up with after a good night. From the game, from the bedroom. He wanted to kiss every single bruise on Alex’s thighs, his calves. He didn’t like seeing Alex get crunched into the boards but he loved the aftermath. Searching out the mottled skin under the downy hair on Alex’s legs.

“Put me down,” Alex said. “ _Dyl_.”

Dylan groaned. He didn’t want to. He wanted to put Alex on the bed and put himself right on top of him. He supposed that was down, and tried to go for it, but Alex squirmed until Dylan had no choice but to awkwardly let him out of his arms. He took off his jacket, because he’d forgotten he was wearing it.

Alex went into the bathroom.

“Hey!” Dylan shouted when he closed the door. “Babe?” He knew he sounded pathetic.

“Hold your horses,” Alex called back, muffled by the door. The toilet flushed, then the sink started going.

Dylan took his pants off and added them to the pile of jacket. He hadn’t bothered with a tie after the game. He took off his shirt. Left his boxers. It seemed rude to be too forward, and he was definitely rude, had in fact been _very_ rude at times, but Alex would call him out and Dylan didn’t want to ruin his chances considering the fact that there was now a door between them.

Ralph was on the bed so Dylan put him on the floor and replaced him. He could be the pet. Maybe he and Alex were each other’s pets. He wasn’t—he wasn’t sure about that line of thinking and didn’t follow it. Instead he turned toward the bathroom and tried to look like he was going to ravage Alex the second he got into bed.

“I’m gonna ravage you,” he said, just to try it out.

“What?”  

“Get out here so I can suck your dick,” Dylan amended.

The door opened and the bathroom light flooded hazy yellow into the bedroom. Alex had his stupid plaid robe on. He smiled, full-on at Dylan, with teeth and everything.

Dylan shifted onto his back and patted his chest like he would the chair next to him. Here, take a seat.

“What was that about my dick?”

Alex sat down on the bed, legs off the edge instead of on Dylan, where Dylan could have pulled his robe open and gotten at him, held him by the hips and gotten Alex’s dick sloppy wet. He’d let Alex fuck his mouth for sure, he was feeling magnanimous. The air had shifted, though. Something deflated slightly in Dylan’s chest, the processor overheating his brain whirred into a quieter hum.

“What’s with you?” he asked. He sounded reproachful. He lifted his head to get a better look.

“It was my hatty,” Alex said, soft.

“Duh.”

“So wouldn’t it be polite if I got to decide how we celebrate?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t have time to pick up balloons between the scrum and the parking garage.” Dylan rolled his eyes, dropped back down to the pillow with a huff. He knew, in a way that he didn’t particularly like, what Alex was going for. It wasn’t that he minded, it just wasn’t his favorite. It didn’t really feel like scoring.

Maybe that was the point.

“Are you naked under there,” he asked. That was choosing the high road, his mom would be proud. He put his hand over Alex’s robe covered thigh, then pushed aside the fabric when Alex nodded and didn’t shift away from his touch.

Dylan found his dick. It was nice, not as long as his, but thicker. He liked how it felt in his mouth because he could take nearly all of Alex without using his hand, which made him feel like he was really fucking good at sex.  It also made Alex thrash, and moan, and lose it while he swallowed.

Alex made a breathy _hmmm_ sound when Dylan closed his hand into a fist and stroked up, then down. Then up again, until Alex was crawling into his lap and kissing him. Then they were rolling around and back into it and Dylan had conceded because he usually did and it didn’t really matter anyway. It was only Alex, so it was okay.

Later, Alex kept the robe on, which was both bizarre and alluring. Almost like he was wearing a dress, like if Dylan looked over his shoulder and saw only the fabric and felt the movement of a dick up his ass he could pretend he was getting pegged, like there was a girl back there, getting him as deep as Alex was. And Alex was small, so it wasn’t wholly unreasonable to think it might be this way—with Dylan’s thighs spread wide and his ass up at the right angle for their height difference, if—if it was a girl fucking him. But then he wouldn’t feel the heat of real, hot skin inside him, and he wouldn’t feel Alex’s balls slapping against him either. There wouldn’t be pretty big hands gripping his hips and keeping him close.

The other way around, the fact that he had a foot on Alex made it even better. He could reach everything, fold Alex in half, really put his back into it. This way was just— _Jesus_ , just him fucking taking it. Which was.

It was good. He sort of hated how good it was.

He spent a lot of time thinking about sex because he was 22 and surrounded by fucking horny assholes all the time. It had been the same in Junior, and in Arizona, but Arizona hadn’t had Alex which meant Dylan had gotten less. Or, no, he just didn’t get it like this. Because why the fuck would he when even the Roadrunners had girls ready to slip into your DMs or send you filthy snaps.

“Are you alive down there,” Alex asked him. His voice was rough, scratchy. He moved his hand to Dylan’s lower back and splayed it there. Something about that made Dylan shiver and clench down. He wasn’t sure where he’d gone.

“Yeah, fuck, you fucking weirdo where else would I be?”

“Dunno,” Alex said. “Do you wanna come like this?”

“You should. You should come.”

Alex squeezed his hip and snapped his own hips forward, getting somehow, impossibly, deeper. He really did have a thicker dick then you might guess, if you were guessing, which was the kind of thing guys did sometimes before everyone aired all that shit out in the locker room. It made Dylan groan and turn his head so he could find a cooler spot on the pillows for his burning cheeks.

“You feel good, so good. We probably—“ Alex stopped like he was collecting himself, or maybe just close—“we probably shouldn’t do this bare.”

That seemed hysterical to Dylan, since they were, and had, and he’d probably had more unprotected sex with the dude currently fucking him than he’d had ever in his life. “Can you just. Shut up and go harder. I’m gonna come in your mouth. After. Okay? Just. Let’s go.”

“ _Wow,_ ” Alex said, but it was more of a moan. He shifted and bore down and it was like he suddenly, actually bottomed out for real-for real, and even though they used lube, Dylan really felt it—the fucked up, gritty stretch while Alex full-on plowed him. He loved it. He loved it from the other side, too, the friction on his dick. He realized he was moaning. Clenching down hard while Alex grunted into his own orgasm. He pulsed inside, and Dylan felt him come, which was disgustingly his favorite part of this. Knowing you did good enough by just being present and willing. He got mad, when Alex didn’t finish inside him. He got pretty mad when he couldn’t make anyone he was fooling around with come. Minor personal failures added up.

Dylan collapsed down to the bed when Alex pulled out. He was still hard, had been for probably an hour, and the mattress felt like a gift to his dick. He considered just rubbing against the sheet until he came, like that’s what Alex got for making him take it, but Alex was panting and tapping his side, saying, “turn over, Dyl c’mon.”

How he wasn’t entirely come dumb was a mystery. Maybe he was just that into Dylan getting his too.

“ _Dylan,”_  Alex said, firmer this time.

Dylan grumbled as he rolled himself onto his back. His asshole somehow felt numb, empty, and sore all at once. He could feel come and lube sort of inching down inside him. If he sneezed it would dribble out—which, also disgusting, but it made him sorta hot. He loved the way that looked on anyone else.

Alex kissed him once he was settled. “Hi,” he said. “Thank you.” He was bright-eyed. Sex energized Alex, it made Dylan sleepy. He forgot every time.

“Don’t thank me, just.” Dylan gestured at his hardon.

“Sure, babe, yeah.” Alex didn’t do anything cute like play with his nipples or kiss down his stomach, he just shimmied down and tugged Dylan’s legs up until his feet were flat on the bed and Alex was looking at his asshole of all things. “Looks tender,” he said.

Dylan’s whole body shuddered. He felt his cheeks get hot, hotter. Even his dick seemed to react. “Do you—can you not fucking look?”

Alex decided to start touching him. Not his ass, just the inside of his cheek, real close. Fingers almost right _there._

“You have a little skin tag here,” he said. He was chewing on his mouth like he wasn’t aware of it. He tapped at a spot that felt no different from the rest of Dylan’s skin down there, just—it was a lot. “Right here.”

Dylan wanted to drag the pillow over his head. He felt like his whole face was saying something he would never say out loud. “Put your fucking fingers in me,” he said anyway. And then, “Oh god,” when Alex did. At some point he’d decided he didn’t like this. That was a lie.

Alex touched him gently, then less gently.

“And suck my dick,” Dylan added, trying not to gasp, trying not to make it absolutely obvious that he was going to lose his mind because he loved this.

“You’re so, like, wet here,” Alex said.

“Jesus, c’mon.”

“Yeah, yeah. I got you.” Alex sounded dreamy, distant. But then he got his mouth on Dylan, and he was moving his fingers in time with his head, and hockey IQ was actually a highly underrated bedroom asset because that sort of thing took a lot of coordination, which Dylan knew because usually he—

“Shit, shitshit, shit,” he groaned. He clutched at Alex’s shoulder, squirming as he came, trying to alleviate some of the overwhelming sensations assaulting his nervous system. He maybe, maybe, felt like he’d been out on a boat all day in the sun, that bone-deep tired from the air and the water all around. He felt like he’d been stretched out and then compressed. He managed to shoot mostly at Alex’s mouth and chin. “God, Kit. What the fuck.”

Alex wiped off his lips. He wiped off his hand on the robe and then took it off and wiped Dylan with it too. Made a scrunchy face before dropping it off the bed.

“Good?” He asked. Not shy, but genuine.

Dylan couldn’t find the words.

“Good,” Alex said. He pulled the blankets up over them and cuddled into Dylan’s chest, back to being the little spoon or whatever. “Gonna have to wash that robe,” he said, mouth soft.

“Don’t wear that thing again when we fuck,” Dylan finally found his words. “I kind of hate it.”

“It used to be my grandpa’s,” Alex said. Dylan couldn’t see his face.

“Yeah, definitely don’t wear it then. That’s fucking yikes.”

Alex sort of shrugged. “Okay, whatever.”

“Okay, whatever,” Dylan repeated.

And then, when it seemed like it was too quiet and like maybe Alex was mad at him, or annoyed, which would honestly be terrible, he said, “Hey, hey Alex. Good game.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can follow me on [tumblr. ](https://reserve.tumblr.com/)


End file.
